Taken By Storm Read online

  “No, I…” she looked into his taunting, amused face, and then back to his jeans, where his rapid increase in size was going to shock her even more once the tip of his engorged cock peeked out.

  “If you’re curious, you can undo my zipper the whole way.” He tried to disguise the breathlessness in his voice.

  He saw her square her shoulders. Interesting. It seemed that her go-to attitude, when cornered, might be the same as his—tough and sarcastic. Those skills were probably going to come in handy for both of them right about now.

  “Something special I should know about your penis?” she scoffed.

  “Why don’t you keep with the reveal and find out.” As much as Anshar was loving this, he was getting overexcited. The silver cuff on his arm felt tight in warning. To his eternal disappointment, it was time to end the game and get free of his restraints.

  He flicked his wrists. Huh? Nothing. The metal must be a little stronger than he’d anticipated, or maybe the stuff they’d used to knock him out had weakened him a bit. He put more strength into the next try. Still nothing.

  The woman stood steady, one eyebrow arched as if to say, Are you through?

  “Why am I unable to free myself?” he demanded, suddenly more angry than aroused.

  “Because Dagon used an alloy of osmium and several other metals to forge these cuffs.” She turned and waved a hand around them. “As well as the bars of this cell.”

  “Shit!” Anshar was screwed. Dagon was behind his abduction, and he had used osmium—the only metal on earth stronger than gods—to hold him. Unless his brothers found him, which was highly unlikely because none even knew he was missing, he was toast. Anshar attempted to calm himself while waiting for the blonde’s next move.

  Lenore had not believed Dagon when he said the metal would hold, but her boss-god obviously knew his stuff. She watched the immortal captive struggle and fail to get loose, which meant that the lovely body, prone before her, was truly at her mercy.

  “What were you saying about this closure?” she asked, bolder than before. It would pass the long, boring night to play with him a little. She had no intention of undoing his pants now that he was awake, but she would keep that tidbit to herself. One manicured nail ran the length of the metal resting just over his erection, and he groaned at the sensation.

  “Unzip it,” the god suggested.

  Lenore watched him grit his teeth as if in pain. Wasn’t the immortal just full of smart ideas, she thought. He obviously wanted her to see him aroused. Could she do this? She’d never been a cock tease before, but she was beginning to see the appeal.

  “What would you like me to do to it once I have it out?” She moved to put a delicate finger across his mouth. “Wait! Don’t tell me! You’d like me to run my hand up and down your shaft, while squeezing just a little…”

  No…the god’s face was saying, as clear as if he’d said it out loud. He wanted her to squeeze it a lot.

  Lenore’s heart skipped a beat and, despite her nervousness, she decided to go for it. She added more verbal titillation.

  “I promise if you make it extra hard, I’ll lean down and give your cock a nice long kiss. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  Anshar moaned, and Lenore felt herself getting wet. Yeah, she was completely without experience, but she’d seen enough dirty movies to know that things usually moved pretty quickly from touching and sucking to full out sex. The difference—what gave her courage—was that she was in charge, so this little hunting expedition wasn’t going anywhere near that far. Still, her need to torment this lovely god was undeniable.

  “It would be so bad of me to put my mouth on your hard, eager penis, when you’re all tied down and unable to control yourself.” Lenore tapped her chin, seeming to consider.

  Anshar appeared agonized, and her gut clenched as he swallowed convulsively. What came out of his mouth was not what she expected.

  “What’s your name?” he panted.

  “Lenore,” she revealed, surprised into honesty. She heard him repeat it under his breath, and with it, she felt an even more urgent need to touch him. Lenore brought her face close to his stomach, blowing across his sensitized skin and running her long, silken hair over the luscious god’s lower abdomen. “And yours?”

  “Anshar,” he was able to bite out. “Dammit, woman, unzip the fucking jeans!” Lenore felt powerful and more turned on than she could ever remember. The god wanted release…by her. But…bossy much?

  “Oh! Giving orders now, are we?” The light in her eyes got a little sharper. She might be trembling with desire, but she didn’t like being told what to do. While keeping her eyes fixed to his face, she ran her hand between his legs and applied a small amount of pressure to the seam that pressed into his balls.

  “Should I massage you here?” She paused for a brief moment with her fingers on his heavy, tight testicles. Anshar arched upward into her hand.

  Lenore thrilled to his reaction. What a rush. This beautiful god wanted her—a mortal—to continue. Could she really do this? Up until now, Hand Job 101 had not been on the agenda. But what the fuck? She was always too careful for her own good. Would it hurt, just this once…

  Lenore continued to stroke his cock outside of his jeans, moving languidly up and over his straining bulge where her fingers encountered erratic pulsing. Her hand clutched in reaction. She gulped. Oh, my fucking God. The tip of his penis was peeking from beneath his waistband. Time for more bravado.

  “Naughty boy, you’re popping out!”

  It was all she was able to say, captivated by the sight of him, emerging in glory. His dick was fat and insistent. The bulbous head, with a small drop of moisture escaping, was a beautiful shade of purple. She licked her lips and he groaned.

  Lenore’s heart beat mercurially. Was the head of his cock as smooth as it looked? She couldn’t help herself. Reaching out, she ran a finger over the tip where he was wet and glistening. She’d never felt anything quite so delicious, and apparently, neither had he.

  “Lower the zipper, Lenore!” Anshar writhed under her touch.

  Lenore loved the way he said her name with such need. Her fingers moved of their own accord.

  Slowly, so slowly, she brought the zipper down, its rasp the only sound in the room.

  “I’m not wearing anything under my jeans.”

  Lenore knew that from the peek she’d gotten. But wasn’t it sweet of him to warn her that he was about to spring free, and that he was in an absolute frenzy for that to happen. The material fell away easily, and his full, engorged penis emerged. When the chilled basement air hit Anshar’s warm flesh, goose bumps rose across his abdomen. But that’s not what snared Lenore’s eye. No. She was riveted by his thick, turgid cock.

  If looks held heat, Lenore was sure that her gaze would have Anshar near to boiling, but his magnificent staff was unlike anything she’d ever encountered before. And truth be told, she had never once been this up close and personal with male anatomy. Lenore shifted her hand forward to touch, then snatched it back. She reached out again to stroke him, but paused. How did one proceed? When she paused thoughtfully, Anshar roared at her hesitation. Wow. He actually roared. That was good, right? Maybe the thing to do was to tease him a little.

  Anshar strained toward her hand. She could almost hear him willing her to wrap her fingers around his shaft and, even though beset by doubts, she couldn’t hold back any longer.

  Her first touch was tentative, fingers light on the smooth, inviting tip of his cock. He writhed in seeming agony. How could she know what he wanted? She moved her fingers slowly, waveringly, but his bucking hips told her she must be pleasing him. Falteringly, she left the shiny head and curled her fingers, attempting to encircle his long shaft but unable to reach all the way around his incredible girth. She gave up that tactic and pulled instead, but the friction didn’t feel right. She needed some help. That’s when she remembered the collar. She recalled what Dagon had said it could do, and decided to try its powers now.
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  “Tell me what you like,” Lenore commanded.

  Anshar wrenched from his state of frustrated bliss and was astounded to hear himself growl, “Let me lick your hand.” Had he really said that out loud? He must have, because curiosity filled her face, and she brought her hand to his mouth, where he eagerly lapped her palm.

  “Now stroke my cock,” he rasped.

  Her hand went back to his penis, and Anshar shivered deliciously as Lenore did as she was told. Her fingers slipped easily with the lubricant. It glided over the skin of his dick, and Anshar knew it wouldn’t take too many of her silken strokes to have him coming in her hands. Lenore’s grasp was eager and that inflamed him. He set his hips in rhythm with her tugs, but her initial enthusiasm began to wane. She was slowing down. Something was going on in her head, and it didn’t involve letting him finish in her lovely fingers. Her tongue poked out, and she eyed his collar as if unsure whether she should continue or… Lenore let go of his heated prick and backed up. In a flash, Anshar knew what she was about to do.

  “No! Lenore. Please. Don’t stop!” he begged, his mind and cock cried out in need toward her retreating hand. Anshar groaned as she said the words he knew were coming.

  “You have to orgasm…now!” she demanded, standing aside and using the power of the collar.

  Anshar was unable to stop the orgasm that built tumultuously. Damn her! He had never been this aroused before, and she was ordering him to come without her exquisite touch. He might as well be masturbating. He gritted his teeth, feeling the pressure build in his balls until he was forced to release his tentative hold on self-control. Anshar jetted violently across his own chest, pumping over and over, feeling like it would never end. The only factor that added spice was that his captor had watched the whole process in fascination, her eyes glued to his furious release. Anshar had never had anybody watch him before. Had she liked what she’d seen? As he regained some control, he thought maybe coming like that hadn’t been the worst thing. He cleared his throat.

  “Let me go, Lenore.” Anshar tried to speak calmly but was having difficulty. His sexual high was only slightly assuaged. Renewed need, along with agitation of a different sort, was now ramping up. Dammit. He knew, without confronting a mirror, that his eyes were changing from aqua to black and his skin was darkening. This was Lenore’s fault. She’d made him come, but not in the way he’d needed, and it had set him on edge. Violent thoughts invaded his head. He wanted to grab her, throw her back on the table, and plow into her wet little snatch. She’d teased him, and now she was pretending like nothing had happened.

  Anshar followed her movements incredulously as she avoided looking at him, walked across the cell and picked up a towel, slowly dampening it in a small wall-hung sink.

  His cock swelled up again despite his anger at being manipulated. He needed sex! He needed to plunge into her warm depths, into the arousal he could clearly smell on her. Gods! She was playing with fire. Anshar was fast losing control, and it was the last thing he needed to do. If Lenore was truly his Chosen, he’d be fucked if he scared her away before she’d even gotten to know him.

  “Free me, or we will both live to regret this!” His voice was harsh, his body ached. Anshar wanted to weep. He was changing, and he couldn’t stop it. He turned his head. Blood dripped from the cuff on his arm, and there was nothing he could do. He was beyond reason, beyond comfort. He’d had his free will subverted, and it had triggered…gods! Lenore would see what he would become, and he’d never stand a chance with her. He could already imagine her backing away in fear and disgust.

  What was she doing so calmly at the sink? Couldn’t she see what was happening?

  Anshar watched, more and more out of his head, as Lenore moved toward him. He gritted out a laugh. She should be afraid, but knowing that he was bound and unable to hurt her gave her courage. What would she do once she knew the truth?

  Lenore ignored his grated curses and swayed those curved hips right up to the table. Gently, she brought the warm cloth to his body and washed the ejaculate from every inch of his skin. Quietly, she began to hum. The material moved slowly over his skin, and he gasped. What the fuck? Inexplicably, he felt the grip of the change—which was normally inevitable—seep out through his pores. Lenore and her careful ministrations were quietly driving the tension from his body.

  She circled the towel soothingly and sang a small tune under her breath while bathing him, bringing him back from the brink of madness.

  Listening to the tune, he was calmed and eventually only sleepily aroused when she was through. She signaled an end to their interlude when she pulled up his zipper, avoiding his semi-swollen sex. Lenore stretched his shirt down without another word, covered him with a blanket for the night, and left Anshar’s cell without another word, locking the bars behind her.

  The god snapped back to attention, his tired brain suddenly kicking in. She couldn’t leave him. He wanted her to stay…he needed her touch.

  “Lenore,” he pleaded as she walked away from his cell. “Lenore?”

  She turned regretful eyes toward him, silently turned off the light, and clicked the door closed as she walked out, leaving him alone in the darkened basement.

  “Lenore!” Anshar bellowed. His voice followed her all the way up the stairs.

  ****

  Lenore sat at her desk, her head cradled in her hands. God, what had she just done? Anshar’s voice continued to echo through the house. He called to her. He wanted her back. Lenore’s body shook. What had possessed her? What had possessed him? One thing was certain, she wasn’t going near him again. Dagon would arrive in the morning, and her duties would be finished.

  Chapter Three

  Dagon and Matthew entered the office in Plymouth after a busy night gathering the things they would need and found Lenore head down on Dagon’s desk, sound asleep. Probably for the best. Dagon put a finger to his lips as he uncapped a vial and filled a syringe he’d removed from the bag over his arm.

  He crept behind Lenore and plunged the needle into the side of her neck, encountering only the weakest of struggles as she instantly went from sleep to sedation.

  “That was easy!” he said cheerfully. “Pick her up and put her here.” He indicated the desktop.

  Pushing the items from the work surface with one sweep of his arm, Matthew hefted Lenore onto the mellowed pine top, face up.

  “She can lose the top.” Dagon suddenly felt his blood connection to Lenore a little too succinctly and was totally not interested in being the one to strip Lenore down. Matthew, however, would enjoy it. Many times Dagon had caught the human male ogling the woman’s big breasts, so now the asshole’s dreams were about to come true.

  Dagon sighed. The god could not in good conscience—however much he might abhor seeing Lenore’s nakedness—leave the pervert alone in the room to do recon on Lenore’s nipples. Pink, Dagon was betting, then snapped the door shut on those thoughts. Where had that come from? Appalled at himself, he shivered in horror and mentally scrubbed his brain. Who was the fucking degenerate now? Disgusted, he turned his back while Matthew proceeded.

  Dagon knew the minute the sweater was peeled from Lenore’s limp body. A heady whiff of her perfume wafted into the air.

  “Lenore!” The howl came from the basement.

  “Sounds like our guest of honor is awake.” Dagon was happy to be distracted and more sure than ever that his experiment with Anshar was going to work. The god in the bowels of the house definitely sounded needy while calling the female’s name.

  Since analyzing Lenore’s blood the day after the battle at Bloody Pond when she’d been injured, Dagon had understood Lenore was his descendant. And why not? He had screwed a lot of women back in old Plymouth Colony. Just because many of the Puritan men were, well, Puritans, didn’t mean that the women weren’t hot for a little action while their men were off hunting pagans. Too bad they hadn’t realized that the biggest heathen of all had been busy between their wives’ legs.

  No
w he was hoping that those long ago events meant his conjectures about Anshar and Lenore were correct.

  “Prepare her.” Dagon was anxious to get this done, and not up for any dilly-dallying from Matthew, who was taking his time removing Lenore’s black lace bra. Movement caught the corner of his eye. Had the idiot just squeezed one emerging globe? Fuck that. “And no fondling,” he added.

  Being blood related to Lenore had obviously kindled a few protective instincts. Not enough to prevent the operation he was about to perform, but enough so he didn’t want the creepy Matthew manhandling her. As her bra was completely removed, Dagon was certain that the prick tweaked a nipple.

  “Enough I said!” Dagon growled. “Or you’ll be minus those fingers.”

  Dagon meant business, as evidenced by wounds he’d inflicted while teaching Matthew a previous lesson, wounds that were still healing.

  Matthew removed his hands from Lenore’s unconscious form.

  “Scrub her up and make sure everything is ready,” Dagon ordered.

  Matthew opened the bag Dagon had thrown down and carefully laid out the assortment of items, sneaking surreptitious glances at Lenore’s rising and falling chest at every opportunity.

  Dagon ignored it but felt a small twinge of compassion for this woman who carried his blood. Unfortunately some things had to be done for the greater good. Well, not good perhaps, but certainly for the greater power.

  “Hurry it up.” Dagon kept an eye on Matthew, while the man took every gods-damned opportunity to brush against Lenore’s soft tits, but the god kept his mouth shut for the sake of expediency and knew the minute the task was complete.

  The pair headed for the basement, carrying only Dagon’s blade.

  ****

  Anshar heard footsteps on the stairs. Two sets. Both male. Not Lenore. One god. His disappointment was tinged with apprehension. This was so fucked up. He was about to find out why he’d been taken.

  “Cousin!” Dagon entered the room where Anshar lay on the table within the cell. “So happy to see you again.”